


Brothers-in-arms

by Lerry_Hazel



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7896196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lerry_Hazel/pseuds/Lerry_Hazel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two may still not be enough to carry on the glory of now non-existent Seigaky team, but at least he doesn’t have to do it alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brothers-in-arms

**Author's Note:**

> A month into their third year Momoshiro and Kaidoh have a midnight chat about the future of Seigaku tennis team.
> 
> RATED T, because it’s pretty innocent aside from the LANGUAGE, but seriously, people, there are Momo and Kaidoh in this story…
> 
> WARNINGS: It’s not technically an AU, but my take on the future is sort of depressing. Also, I didn’t mean to insult any of your favourite characters behind the scenes, but if you take a really big magnifying glass...
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Nothing is mine. As the matter of fact, even Arai&Kachiro playing Doubles were invented by some other fic-writers. I started to write a trivial Kachiro&Katsuo Pair, but then it just clicked.
> 
> NB. I know that the series offers no evidence of Kaidoh being a good student (and probably offers a few evidence of the contrary), but I think it fits, with his obsessive perfectionism and all. The rest is more or less Canon-based.

**BROTHERS-IN-ARMS**

With all due respect, this time Momo-chan-fukubuchou was seriously going to punch Kaidoh-buchou.

To an extent, one could sympathize with the shock of suddenly having to fill Tezuka’s shoes as not only the formal leader of pretty self-sufficient Seigaku regular team, but the actual head of significantly bigger, inexperienced and disorganized tennis club; especially after all the years Kaidoh had spent revering the legendary Captain, whose supposed ‘betrayal’ he had yet to get over. So Momo had made sure to cut off the ritual fighting and for now even chosen to put off his very legitimate objections to both the irrationally demanding training sessions Kaidoh had taken up conducting and his even less rational idea to first cancel the Ranking Tournament in April and then drag seemingly random people to a training camp in May. And here they were, stuck in the infamous Karuizawa Lodge for the whole spring break, yet their newly-appointed buchou showed no intention to lay off. And that just won’t do. Won’t do at all.

 

It had taken Momo almost two hours to assure all-but-suicidal Kachiro that no, he hadn’t let Arai-senpai down, and when quietly shutting the door of sophomores’ assigned bedroom he could still hear Arai whining to his two sidekicks.

Of course, Arai probably needed to get serious if he intended to finally make the regular team, but he didn’t stand a chance against a national-level player like Kaidoh no matter what, and teaming up with the kid had obviously worked wonders on his need to boost his own confidence by humiliating the kouhais. Therefore making the pair tidy up the courts like mere freshmen after doing a hundred push-ups as punishment for losing miserably to their captain (6-0 two against one in twenty minutes, half of which were spent on throwing insults rather than balls) was definitely uncalled for.

So, this time stupid Mamushi was definitely in for it: first thing in the morning. Momo might have promised three senpais separately to make sure Kaidoh wasn’t overdoing it, but there was no way Momo would spend his own Golden Week running countless laps for having interrupted the Captain’s private training. Not ever and definitely not now, when since the very beginning of the term Kaidoh had been constantly wearing that “now I’m really pissed off” expression from his memorable match against Kamio. Anyway, damn Viper wouldn’t have to postpone serious training till after dark if he spent less time on torturing the junior members, would he?

With a groan Momo rolled off his nice warm futon and flicked the light back on. He didn’t want Kaidoh’s 57 kilos to trip in the dark and land on top of him, did he?

 

Momo’s sluggish mind slowly drifted to reality, stirred by exceedingly loud whisper that didn’t even sound Japanese.

“See off… put up with… carry on… look through… anoo – take up? Kuso! Pick up – ”

“Eh?” Momo murmured sleepily.

“The English for ‘ひろう’ is not ‘take up’. It’s ‘pick up’, ‘pick up’, ‘pick up’!”

Momo jerked awake to a disturbing sight of Kaidoh, sitting cross-legged on the other futon, attempting to crash his iPod in one hand and repeatedly hitting the floor with the other hard enough to draw blood.

“Baka Mamushi,” Momo panted, trying to wrestle his buchou’s hand off the harm’s way (which proved quite a fit, since idiot Viper was easily as strong as any boa constrictor. “Beating yourself bloody over a stupid English verb! That won’t do. Won’t do at all.”

“Fshhhhh”

“Oi, kowai, kowai,” Momo recoiled mockingly, even though Kaidoh wasn’t actually looking in his direction.

“Really, Mamushi, only you would obsess over a piece of homework in a sport camp, at three in the freaking morning. But then, only you would drag a bunch of freshmen, cheerleaders and hopeless cases to a training camp to begin with. Seriously, man, you couldn’t prioritize to save your life…”

_… Momo suddenly experienced a vivid flashback to a cold October evening two years ago when nicking Kaidoh’s brand-new regular uniform seemed a good idea – that is, until a VERY angry Viper dragged him off his bike before he could ride away. They were still standing on the sidewalk panting and sweaty, Momo’s school jacket in rags, Kaidoh’s once-white shirt ruined by grass stains, dust and even a few drops of blood, when a shining car stopped right in front of them. Two windowpanes went down simultaneously to reveal a bigger and a smaller copy of Kaidoh both glaring at the original one, who suddenly looked very uncomfortable._

_“Your mother doesn’t do the laundry for you to roll in the dirt, you know,” the biggest Kaidoh uttered, his voice even deeper than his son’s was promising to become. “Get in the car.”_

_“Don’t forget your bag,” the brat on the back seat interjected. “You are late as it is.”_

_“Long practice,” Viper mumbled defensively, clumsily arranging his racket-case in the trunk._

_“Then perhaps you should spend less time chasing a ball like a hyperactive puppy and concentrate of your schoolwork more.”_

_“Nii-san doesn’t know the meaning of ‘enough’.”_

_“You are now thirteen, Kaoru, you’ve got to think of your future, what kind of example do you set for Hazue…”_

“Oh, so that’s it, Kaoru-chan?” Momo drawled mischievously, “Afraid you otooto will tell you off? That won’t do. Definitely won’t do.”

“Uruse,” Kaidoh stuck the earphone back into his ear and picked up a notepad.

Now, that was strange. No one, save Eiji-sempai, should be able to get away with calling Kaidoh ‘Kaoru-chan’ (and that only because of Kaidoh’s exceptional sense of respect to his elders).

“Oh, come on. You’re practically on top of the year. Fuyumori-sensei never fails to point that out when Arai or I try to blame our poor performance on tennis practice and club duties. You set a really good example – Kaoru-chan,” this time Momo made sure to sit next to Kaidoh and even give him a one-armed hug. That seemed to work:

“Get your hands of me, saru!” Kaidoh snarled immediately.

“What did you call me?”

“Are you deaf or just really stupid?”

“Wanna fight?”

“Why, you – fshhhhhh. Just get off my futon, moron, I have work to do.”

Oh, that was wrong, so very wrong. Kaidoh Kaoru, the one and the only Snake of Seigaku, never sounded defeated over something as trivial as homework. Actually, scratch that. Kaidoh Kaoru never sounded defeated, point. He went straight from destructive to determined.

Momo finally took a good look at his sworn rival. He liked what he saw even less.

With the amount of muscular tissue Kaidoh possessed it was impossible to look worn – yet somehow he did. With the face that on a good day never failed to send any first-year in the vicinity run crying it was impossible for Kaidoh to look bad. Yet somehow he did.

“Damn, Mamushi, do you sleep at all?”

“Of course I do. Humans can’t go without sleep, even a dumbass like you should know that.”

“So why are you still up at, er, 2:47, when I know for a fact your alarm goes off at half past five? Who’s the dumbass now, eh?”

“Shut your trap! Unlike you, I like to come to the midterms prepared.”

“Midterms are in three weeks! I’ll deal with it once we’re back at school.”

“And the ranking tournament and the regional preliminaries won’t take your time at all.”

“Are you trying to say I’m not serious about tennis?”

“I’m not trying, I’m saying it”

“Well, I don’t know who puts such ideas in that ugly head of yours, but have you forgotten who got kicked off the team last time? I’m dead serious about tennis! I’m as serious as a frigging – heart – ATTACK! ”

“Keep quiet. Normal people are sleeping here.”

“Oh, so you admit you are not normal,” Momo concluded gleefully but dug into his bag for the first-aid kit, noticing how Kaidoh had winced at his gradually increasing volume and rubbed his forehead under that hideous dirty-orange bandana (the green one, having gone all the way to the National finals, was now saved for a special occasions as a good-luck charm; or was it bad luck, considering the Emerald Pair’s final performance?).

He didn’t like it, didn’t like it at all. Since when did the idiot Viper worry himself sick (literally!)? Wasn’t a mamushi supposed to be incinerated seven times yet rise from the ashes intact? Or maybe it was ‘reborn as a mamushi’(1)? (By that time Momo had been too busy drawing a snake with Kaidoh’s head and tail on fire; Fuyumori-sensei hadn’t been pleased).

Well, perhaps this particular mamushi had recently been burnt down a bit too often.

They had lost to Rikkaidai in the Kantou finals – the game had been great, but in Mamushi’s primitive vocabulary a loss was probably still a loss. Then he had lost in the ranking tournament – by one point and sheer luck Momo couldn’t exactly take credit for, but, again, it’s Mamushi that we are talking about. The Emerald Pair’s loss in the national finals had been spectacular – and, frankly, terrifying. The two preceding victories had been no less spectacular – but the first happened too late and the second too early to hold any true significance for the outcome of the competitions.

Although their performance is semi-finals had been praised, Momo himself didn’t feel comfortable thinking about it. And Kaidoh had always been perfectly capable of making himself uncomfortable without any masked and wigged freaks spilling his embarrassing secrets and vivisecting his painstakingly cultivated ‘Snake Shot’. And then there was U-17, and Tezuka-buchou wiping the court with his successor as a parting gift.

Struggling daily to memorize the ever-changing unfamiliar faces that now surrounded him on the court, Momo readily admitted he missed their team as it used to be – particularly his easy-going comradeship with Eiji-senpai. Kaidoh, of course, would admit no such thing to the point where he hadn’t bothered to show up at the Farewell party, yet there was no doubt how deep his bond with Inui-senpai ran.

Finally, Kaidoh had come out sixth in their year at the final exam, which made #53Momoshiro Takeshi more that slightly envious, but for the stupid snake it must mean being outside the top five and at the lower half of top ten. Al in all, poor Mamushi hadn’t experienced a personal triumph for quite a while, and by now had probably managed to convince himself he was letting everybody down or something.

 

“Yo, Mamushi,” Momo called, pushing his half-finished bottle of water towards his roommate, who was now absently chewing the headache pills dry, his head still buried in the book. “You seriously need to wind down, you know that, right? And I don’t mean by biting people’s heads off. I mean, Arai sure is a lazy arse, but if he wants to fuck up his last chance to be on the team, isn’t it his problem?”

“They are my Doubles Two, so they are my problem. Since it’s obviously not yours.”

“What? You want Arai AND Kachiro on the team? Sure, he is not completely helpless, his Dad being a coach and all, but Doubles Two... Next you’re gonna tell me Katsuo and Horio are Doubles One.”

“It’s them or Ikeda and Hayashi.”

“Were you hit with a ball or something? Those two couldn’t even hold out against Gyokurin or Ginka! That – that’s – “

“That’s why Doubles One are doomed anyway. But Doubles Two are often much weaker.”

“I sincerely hope you aren’t going to take this attitude to Kantou tournament.”

“We are not going to Kanto. Now shut you trap!”

“Hey! What got into you?”

“I said, shut up!”

“No, I’m not gonna shut up! What do you mean, we are not going to Kanto?”

Kaidoh closed his notebook and gave his fukubuchou an odd look.

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Are you saying I’m stupid?”

“Aren’t you? Fudomine are all national-level players. Hyotei still have Ootori, Hiyoshi and Kabaji, plus over two hundred people to choose from.”

“We’ve beaten both Fudoumine and Hyotei. Twice.”

“Fshhhhhu. Yeah, the two of us have. Unfortunately, we need three wins.”

“That’s why we should be training the new regulars now instead of playing you twisted games with kids and losers! I tried to give you time to figure out the Captain thing for yourself, but, frankly, I don’t understand what the fuck you are trying to do here. I just don’t get it!”

Kaidoh shook his head, carefully putting his books and iPod aside.

“Do you know why I am the Captain and you are the Vice-captain?” he suddenly asked without a trace of sarcasm.

“Because I am good with people and you are good at making them suffer?”

“No,” Kaidoh replied absolutely seriously. “It’s because there was no one else. So at least two sophomores have to be on the regular team, or next year there will be no one at all.”

Well, if you put it this way… With two geniuses like Tezuka and Fuji plus Kikumaru the acrobatic genius, plus Inui the walking computer, plus Oishi the grey eminence plus Kawamura the unstoppable force more or less constantly present on the regular team for the better part of three years, the issue of “Seigaku next generation” truly hadn’t arisen for quite a while, but still…

“How did ‘two random sophomores’ automatically become ‘the Cheerleading Trio’?”

“Who would you choose, smartass? I mean it, name three members of the club who are not here?”

“The Yushimura brothers. Ok, they moved to Hokkaido, I know. Nagayama, shit, he graduated. Takeda?”

“Got tired of picking up balls and switched to tennis school, like almost every promising first-year did last September.”

“Well, there is no way! Surely, some aren’t around anymore, but – you’ve only brought six senior members. I personally made thirty-tree headbands last year. And I saw lots of people wearing them all around during the tournament!”

“How many of them did you see running from Inui-juice with us when we were training for the tournament?”

“Are you getting somewhere with it? ‘Cause I can always just check out the roster, you know? ”

“Don’t bother. Officially we have seventeen senior members in the club. But only those six attend regularly. To be led by the captain who’ll flush Seigaku’s Glorious Past down the toilet. But since you say there is no need to worry – ”

“Did Inui-senpai tell you this? About not making it to the tournament, I mean, not about the toilet?”

“Unlike you, I have my own functional brain.”

“Hey, who are you calling brainless, you – oh, forget it. Would it kill you to tell me earlier – instead of actually killing yourself over it?”

“I’m the still the Captain. I’m supposed to deal with these things.”

“No, if necessary, you are supposed to take off to Germany for two months, leaving me in charge. I might have been doing not exactly my best so far, but I’m not your fukubuchou for nothing. Have you at least talked to Ryuzaki-sensei?”

“What do you think, clown?”

“Well, what did she say?”

“Mostly the usual rhetoric about believing in my own abilities and going my own way instead of chasing Tezuka-buchou. Any suggestions, Vice-Captain?”

“All better than yours, Captain!”

“Well, I’m all ears!”

Momo forced himself to stop antagonizing Kaidoh and actually ponder the matter. It was easy to say ‘follow your own way’, when, frankly speaking, neither of them could hold a candle to Tezuka-buchou. Or Fuji-senpai. Or Echizen. They worked remarkably well in doubles, but putting two strongest players into the same match was not an option. Arai would be his immediate choice for Singles Three, except last time he thought he MIGHT have to play in a serious match he actually fainted. Plus, a pair – no matter how bizarre and unequal – with almost a year of joint training was nothing to sneeze upon, especially if the other options were indeed Hayashi and Ikeda, who failed to hit their own damn tin can more often than not; or Horio-kun with his now three years of tennis experience – and Kato-kun, who, well, could cook exceptional Curry. Not that having any of them in Singles would do much good either. All in all, it looked like unless Echizen suddenly decided he couldn’t pursue his career as a pro before aiming for the next Captain of Seigaku nothing they could try would really work. He briefly wondered how Hyotei tennis club kept its members ready to take over as soon as a spot was vacated on the regular team. Seigaku had ten times less people, and still, non-regulars almost never got to play outside the Ranking competitions –

“Yo, Mamushi. Come to think of it, we’d better hold the Rankings really soon.”

“Whatever for? Were you even listening to me before?”

“Actually, yes. So now’s your turn to shut up and listen. If your calculations are correct, fourteen people are just enough to make TWO teams, so we can compete for positions on the main one, like pairs for the Doubles, single players for Singles; and even if – or when – we drop off the Tournament, we can still play each other. I haven’t noticed the freshmen showing any particular spark of genius, so for now they will all probably automatically go to the reserve, but as long as they receive team training, not just swings and ball-picking, by the end of the year we probably won’t have to worry about our “Cheerleading trio” being the only ones able – or unable – to take over.”

Kaidoh gave him a weary look, clearly having hard time keeping up with Momo’s exited chatting:

"I need to think about it.”

“What you need is at least twelve hours of sleep. And to finally wrap you tiny brain around the fact that out petty rivalry is over! I can’t believe I’m actually saying it myself, but we are BOTH now in charge of Seigaku tennis club. Whatever mess it lands us into, we deal with it TOGETHER. So you’d better get used to it.”      

 ***

Momo quietly pulled on his track suit and turned off Kaidoh’s alarm, shaking his head silently over the pile by his rival’s pillow, consisting of two sick notepads, a math textbook and the latest edition of ‘Pro Tennis’. Baka Mamushi definitely needed to be taught how to relax properly – well, wasn’t his birthday coming on the eleventh…

 ***

“Finish the warm-up” – Momo blew his whistle and watched six eager freshmen line up expertly beside six familiar faces. “You’ve all earned the right to be here by your hard work during the previous month. For many of you it has been you first month in Seigaku or even your first month playing tennis altogether. Others have entered their last year in junior high. But no matter how much or how little time you think you have, I hope you are prepared to be serious, because it’s time to do some real work. After all, we don’t want to disappoint our buchou, do we?” Momo carefully met six pairs of eyes widened in mock and six in quite sincere horror. “No? Then let’s get started. Ikeda, Hayashi, Katsuo, court A. Aizawa, Ryuji, Kobayashi, you too. Time to see what you kids have learned in a month: try to win at least once. For seniors, only three straight wins count. Losers get to pick up the balls. Arai, run the rest of the freshmen through strength-and-stamina routine. Those who fall behind get the kitchen duty, so don’t slack, Rankings are not that far away. Oh, and take Horio-kun and his three years of tennis experience with you – just make sure there actually are weigh blocks in his ‘power ankles’. Kachiro, court B.”

*** 

The window of the room where Kaidoh had just woken up almost two hours later than usual provided him with an excellent view on both Court B, where Kachiro kept smugly returning the balls Momoshiro sent with about ten percent of his usual strength, and Court A, where Ikeda was cowering under Ryuji’s remarkably powerful, if not very precise, serve; as well as the edge of the forest, where Horio, Idehashi, Ikyo, Kosuiro and their collective years of grade school tennis experience were trotting only few meters behind Arai.

Kaidoh donned his new favourite bandana and headed downstairs. He briefly considered joining the training, but chose to start breakfast instead: let the Peachhead handle it, since he seems to have it all under control.

This year they would still surely gain the reputation of those who let the fruits of Tezuka’s genius rot. Hopefully, next year they would be remembered as those who had rebuilt the Seigaku Team from scratch. After all, a few outstanding talents might have brought them a few unforgettable triumphs, but generally, Seigaku tennis had never been solely about winning. It was about going all the way towards victory together: shoulder to shoulder and with heads held high.

-end-

**Author's Note:**

> (1) The first quote comes from “Hagakure” by Yamamoto Tsunetomo. I have no idea whether the Japanese schoolchildren are indeed obliged to read it, but couldn’t just let it go ;-). The second refers to the Japanese proverb 蝮の子は蝮 (mamushi-no ko wa mamushi – ‘A viper’s child is a viper’).


End file.
